


All the Miles Between Us

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Because I can't have my boys being sad forever, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, NHL Trade(s), Pre-Trade, Seriously fuck all these trades, Tyson's playing catch up with that though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 14:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: Tyson’s not really expecting Gabe to be on the other side of his door first thing in the morning.





	All the Miles Between Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreyMichaela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/gifts).



> For GreyMichaela who deserves the biggest hug ever! I'll just have to give you a proper one in January. 
> 
> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own. Based on the trade from today. Welcome to Toronto T-Beauts! I love you but I'm so sad you're leaving Colorado! Alternatively titled 'Trades are the WORST'.

Tyson’s not really expecting Gabe to be on the other side of his door first thing in the morning. This is in part due to the fact that they were up late texting last night and Tyson’s still feeling a little groggy from how long he’d clung to his phone, and each of Gabe’s responses, before managing to fall asleep. 

Mostly he’s surprised because Gabe isn’t supposed to be in Colorado. Tyson knows for a  _ fact _ that last night he’d been in Sweden.

You know, on the other side of the ocean.

But here he is, ten in the morning looking as rough as Tyson’s ever seen him, hair messy, dark circles under his eyes and  _ still _ somehow looking like a runway model took a wrong turn into a hockey rink and thought it would be fun to give it a go. 

Maybe he’s hallucinating. Brought on by stress and sadness and  _ way _ too much DQ.

“Are you going to invite me in?” Gabe the hallucination asks and that’s enough proof for Tyson that he’s still dreaming or something because Gabe doesn’t  _ ask _ anymore, not since Tyson slipped that key on his keyring and made whatever it was between them that much more serious. They’d both panicked a little at that, yelled a little, and had ended up having awesome makeup, ‘we’re good at adulting’, sex. 

He still thinks of it fondly.

“Tyson?” 

“Yeah sure,” he steps aside for his hallucination, figuring it must be rude to like, let it just walk right through him. Like a ghost, or whatever.

Gabe the hallucination has a duffle over his shoulder, dressed in sweats, perfect hair in a disarray like he’s been running his fingers through it repeatedly, and Tyson’s own twitch with the need to do the same. He drops the duffle in the hall and wanders into the living room where he stops, standing stock still.

Tyson follows after him and peers around at the mess of boxes and piles of shit he still needs to sort through, preferably before the end of the summer. He’d thought about keeping his house but who knows if he’ll ever be back in Colorado to stay. It would be a waste to leave it sitting empty without anyone to fill it up and make it a home. When he comes back he can just crash with Gabe, or Nate, he supposes, since he isn’t sure how this whole  _ thing _ with Gabe is going to work with them in different countries now. 

Gabe the hallucination takes an unsteady breath next to him, and yeah, definitely a product of his own imagination because he’s been feeling pretty off kilter since he got the news the morning of the trade.

“Tyson…” Gabe turns towards him and wow, he outdid himself with his hallucination. Clenched manly jaw, glistening eyes, it’s enough to make Tyson swoon. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?” 

Tyson shrugs. “I know why you’re here.”

“You do?” His hallucination looks pretty surprised by the news. 

“Sure, kinda like a ‘Ghost of Christmas Future’, right? To cheer me up and let me know there’s a life for me in Toronto and stuff.” 

Gabe the hallucination even makes the same pinched face Gabe does when he’s confused- lips pursed, brows furrowed, glaring down the problem like that will make it tell him all his secrets. Tyson has seen many a rookie fold under the look. 

He takes pity on him.

“Look, why don’t you just...hover around, or whatever, while I keep working on this. I promised I’d meet up with EJ for dinner once I was done this room.” He gestures around the chaos of the room. There’s a ton of work to be done, who knew up and moving someone's entire life could be so difficult? Part of him is thankful that the trade didn’t happen during the season, he’s seen the chaos it can instill in a guys life. A larger part of him wants to say  _ fuck it _ and retire. Stay in Colorado, get a job in broadcasting or something,  _ anything,  _ if it means he gets to keep his life. Keep the boys and Zoe and Gabe. Especially Gabe.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re my hallucination, shouldn’t you know?” He’s feeling more than a little moody, frustrated with his mind for this image of what he can’t have, frustrated with everything happening in his life he can’t control. 

“Your  _ what? _ Tyson.” Gabe the hallucination tries to reach for him but he shies away, ducks his head and pretends he’s busy with a box, pretends not to see the hurt look that flashes across his face. “How much sleep have you been getting?”

In the week since the news broke? Barely any. He’s played it off, told reporters he’s just too excited, told his friends he doesn’t need the sleep, told himself it just doesn’t matter. 

He shrugs and this time doesn’t duck out of the way when Gabe reaches for him. 

Maybe he’s too tired, or maybe just too weak because even knowing that not being able to feel Gabe will be the worst kind of torture, he holds himself still, waiting for it.

Gabe’s hands are warm on his arms, his palms rough with callouses that Tyson knows so well, grip certain and strong, grounding. Tyson sucks in a sharp breath, head spinning and then he’s being pulled in for a bone crushing hug. 

“You’re here?” His voice breaks. 

There’s no denying the smell of Gabe’s cologne, of the stale scent of recycled air or sweat that clings to his body. Tyson’s imagination isn’t good enough to come up with the feel of Gabe’s days old stubble against his cheek, or the humid, sourness to his breath as he lets out a shaking, heavy breath. 

His eyes sting, a lump in his throat that makes it hard to swallow as he clings and is clung to. 

“Caught the earliest flight I could get.” Gabe’s voice is rough, and he sniffs, his chuckle a wet, wrecked sound. “Thought I would surprise you.” 

The futileness of it hits him abruptly and he pulls back, arms coming up to wrap around himself like a poor mockery of what he just had. What he’s losing. 

Fuck, it feels like he’s losing everything.

“What?” Gabe doesn’t try to reel him back in but it looks like he wants to, eyes big and round, pleading to understand. “Tyson, what?”

“You should have stayed in Sweden.” He grits out, each word like a knife in his chest. Gabe looks gutted, and Tyson has to tear his gaze away before he caves and begs to take it back. “Your families there, you’re missing out on your summer.” 

“This is more important.” Gabe takes a step forward, expression mulish. “ _ You’re _ important.” 

“I’m not even going to be  _ here _ in a month ! ” The words burst out, ugly and harsh, leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. “The season will start up and I won’t matter.”

“Tyson,”

He ignores Gabe, talking over him, on a roll now as all of the hurt and doubt spills out amongst boxes that he’s expected to fill with his life. 

“You won’t mean to but it will happen. Captainly duties, or hockey, or our friends- it will all pile up until there’s no space left for  _ me.” _

He’s panting, he realizes dimly. He feels torn open, raw and exposed. He flinches at Gabes first cautious touch, his hand on his arm. His feet feel rooted to the floor for all he wants to run, heart thundering in his ears. He’s shaking, he knows, but can’t seem to stop it.

Gabe winds his arms around him again and Tyson sags. Gabe holds him as he cries, silent, wet tears that stream down his cheeks and soak the material of Gabe’s shirt. His arms hang limply at his sides, his shoulders weighted down by the myriad of emotions thrumming through him, but Gabe keeps him steady, presses him close, and doesn’t say a word as Tyson breaks down.

When the tears finally stop, and he’s left feeling rung out, exhausted, Gabe gently leads him to the bedroom. He helps Tyson out of his jeans and under the covers, then disappears into the bathroom, only to reappear a moment later with a warm washcloth that he gently wipes Tysons cheeks with. 

“Can I stay?” Gabe keeps his voice soft, gentle. The way he clutches Tyson’s hand tells another story.

Tyson summons up the energy to slide over and Gabe shucks his shirt and sweats, climbing in next to him. They end up on their sides, knees bumping as Tyson rests his hand over Gabes heart and Gabe traces a slow, comforting path along his hip. It’s hard to appreciate the closeness now when he knows their time is limited. The move looms over them like a dark cloud, ominous. He wants to soak up Gabe’s touches, memorize the feel of his body against his own, but he’s just  _ so tired _ and it all feels like a herculean effort. 

“Sorry.” He musters up the apology. His eyes feel sore but he doesn’t want to look away. “Just feeling a little stressed.” 

Gabe’s lips quirk before he sobers again.

“What you said,”

“Don’t worry about it.” Tyson cuts in. Gabe keeps a firm grip on his hip when he tries to roll away, pinning him in place. “Seriously. Like I said, just stressed. Ignore what I said.” 

“Do you really think I could forget you?” Gabe’s expression is so  _ open _ it hurts and Tyson has to close his eyes to guard himself against it.

“We’ll be in different  _ countries,  _ you probably wouldn’t mean to but it’s bound to happen.”

“Tyson.” Gabe squeezes his hip. His voice is rough, almost angry. “Babe, look at me.” It’s the  _ last _ thing Tyson wants to do at this very second but when has he ever been able to say no to Gabe? His hand comes up to cup Tyson’s cheek, thumb brushing the thin, bruised skin under his eye. Despite the harsh sound of his voice, his expression is gentle, fond and Tyson’s breath catches. 

“I could  _ never _ forget you. Even if I wanted to. Which I don’t,” Gabe clarifies hastily. “Why do you think I came home early?” 

Tyson’s heart does a funny little skip at the word but he pushes it aside with some difficulty. There’s something stuck in his throat that makes it hard to force the words out. 

“To end this, I guess.” 

“For  _ you, _ dumbass.” Gabe shifts until Tyson’s sprawled on his back, Gabe above him with his big hands on his cheeks. “I love you.”

It’s...hard to breathe. And not just with Gabe’s weight. It’s a lot to take in. 

“Did you just call me a dumbass?” He demands instead, only to be muffled when Gabe ducks his head to press a sweet, quick kiss to his lips. He flushes, off kilter but slowly the sick feeling that’s been eating at him all week begins to recede bit by bit.

“That’s the part you focus on.” Gabe mutters, peppering his face with silly little kisses. Tyson squirms but doesn’t make any real effort to escape. “Not on the fact that I love you.”

Tyson’s cheeks are blazing. Gabe pulls back suddenly, expression serious again and Tyson hates it.

“You don’t have to say it back.” He reassures Tyson, like he thinks he’s somehow pressuring Tyson into saying it back. It’s horribly endearing. “Whenever you’re ready. And if you aren’t, that’s fine too.” 

He just looks so earnest that Tyson has to reach up and tug him in for a longer, deeper kiss. He feels too vulnerable, he thinks, to say it now, but he wants to. God does he want to. Soon maybe.

“What the hell are we going to do during the season?” He eventually finds the mind to ask when his lips are tingling and swollen. Gabe, looking like sex itself, settles himself half on Tyson, just enough weight not to crush him, but anchor him. 

“It’s not a long plane ride.” Gabe murmurs, sounding lethargic and slow. Tyson knows the feeling. Emotions are hard. He feels rung out, run over, ready to put it behind him and piece himself back together best that he can. He knows Gabe will help. “Phone calls. Skype.”

“Skype sex.” He waggles his eyebrows. 

“Sexting?” Gabe suggests a beat later, a pleased look stretching across his face. “Phone sex. Quickies before games in a convenient closet. My mouth on you, your teammates outside.”

“Okay !” Tyson flushes, slapping a hand over Gabe’s mouth before he can  _ really _ get going and Tyson Jr decides to join them. EJ will  _ kill _ him if he cancels. Although, Gabe is a pretty good excuse.

“We have time to figure it out.” Gabe eventually says, once Tyson’s pulled his hand away and he’s settled back down. “And breaks and summers together.”

“In Sweden?” Tyson asks, doubtful. 

“Canada, Colorado, so long as I’m with you.” 

“You’re so cheesy, oh my god.” Tyson covers his face as Gabe grins at him but he can’t hide how much lighter he feels, how much better he feels. “I can’t believe you’re it for me.” 

His heart skips a beat as the words slip out but Gabe beams at him and he thinks it was worth it. 

Whatever gets thrown their way, it’s worth it. 


End file.
